Someone Who Cares
by Amethyst Soul
Summary: I needed to write something. This came out. A lot of people seem sad, lately, so this is a little something I cooked up. PG for depressing themes. And yes... ::sob:: a somewhat fluffy ending. So what?! I'm capable of writing something different!


A/N: I usually don't write things this short, but I have a huge AP history test tomorrow so I couldn't write anything more. I wrote this because a lot of people seem to be down, and since "the loneliest time of the year" is headed, I thought we might need some cheering up. Anyway... gah. A famous writer once said that it's difficult to write something when you're write in the middle of the same emotions, and I'm starting to think she's right. Anyway, I think this is my first 'Dib-first-person' fic I've ever written. It was weird. Please at least try to enjoy it, nevertheless, and smile?  
  
Disclaimer: Okay, okay, okay, I admit it. I got a sex change and am really Jhonen Vasquez underneath. Aside from that, I also decided to throw away all my comics and artworks and turn instead to fan fiction. Be sure to look for my next book, The Bad Fanfic Collection (B.F.C.) which will include cheery little plot-less stories based on ALL of my drawings from the B.A.C.  
  
Disclaimer 2: I admit it again! I got another sex change and renamed myself Michelle Branch so I can make the video for "Everywhere". Don't I look pretty? Anyway, lyrics to my song, 'All You Wanted' show up in here. Somewhere.  
  
  
  
Someone who cares  
  
  
  
I pushed my face further in the pillow so that I could smother my pitiful whimpers under the warm cotton cushion. I hate crying. It makes me feel weak. It made it seem like I couldn't deal with all these emotions at once.  
  
But that was the truth, wasn't it? No, not exactly. If I couldn't deal, I wouldn't be here. I rubbed my face with my hands in an attempt to erase all evidence that I had been crying in the first place, and sat upright in my bed. Grabbing a few tissues, I blew my nose with a disgusted glare, realizing now just how long I had been crying. The burning red numbers of my clock- they reminded me of crimson eyes- read 1:19. I grumbled and yawned, realizing that this was going to be another sleepless night.  
  
It wasn't supposed to be like this. I never knew how, but it just seemed that as soon as I started high school, everything twisted into this inconceivable world of unimaginable pain. My eyes were finally opened, and now I wish I could close them again. I finally came to the one conclusion that I wanted to avoid all my life: I wasn't worth it.  
  
I was ignored at home, and ignored at school, and all my hard work that I spent in capturing Zim was rarely noticed and rarely successful. I wondered that if I never really existed, who would care? For a fleeting moment, I wondered who would care if I ceased that existence myself.  
  
Sighing, I stumbled out of bed. The cold air felt good on me, and my red, tear-stained face was finally alleviated. It also made me feel so much more alive to finally have the coolness of the incoming wind overcome me- an emotion that wasn't pain, for once. I stood for a moment, and looked around my room. What would this room look like if I was never born? Would it be Gaz's room? Or maybe another workroom for dad?  
  
"I should stop thinking such things," I grumbled as I threw open my door and started down the stairs. It wasn't healthy to think that way, and I don't want to be classified as having a 'condition'.  
  
I slowly walked into the kitchen. My legs could have been bolted to the floor, but I had to keep moving. My stomach felt like lead but I needed to eat something. I hadn't eaten for two days and it was beginning to show. If the kids at school had been right in calling me stick, right now I was probably a toothpick.  
  
The darkness was impaled by the bright emanation from the refrigerator, and I squinted my eyes in order to grope around for some actual food. My hand landed on an open milk carton and I grabbed it, drinking the sweet, cool liquid right from the container.  
  
"You didn't go to school today." The voice was sudden and made me drop the milk. The rest of it spilled onto the floor, ruining my late night snack.  
  
I whirled around to see my sister standing there. Her hair was all over the place and her expression was even scarier now than it was during daylight. I wondered what she was doing up so late, but tried not to care too much. Growling, I grabbed a sponge to clean up the mess.  
  
"So what?" I sneered as I kneeled onto the floor and began to soak up the milk.  
  
Gaz stepped over me in order to grab some cold pizza from the fridge, and then stepped back over me again to get a napkin. "Just informing you. You know, your weirdo friend asked about you today, too. Tell him to stop bugging me."  
  
"Weirdo friend?" I stopped scrubbing the floor and looked up, bewildered. "I don't have any friends."  
  
"Whatever. It's the only person you converse with, Dib. Or yell at, if you want to get specific."  
  
"Zim?"  
  
"Yeah," she nodded, nibbling on her pizza.  
  
"Zim's not my friend." She rolled her eyes and I continued, curious, "What'd he say?"  
  
"He asked me if I had finally lost it and destroyed you."  
  
"And what'd you say?"  
  
"I told him not yet. And then I kicked him in his squeedily spooch for asking such an inane question," she responded. She finished the pizza and threw the napkin away. "No more questions. I need my sleep for the video tournament tomorrow. Go to school or I'll kill you."  
  
"That's nice," I muttered absentmindedly, standing up and taking another glance in the fridge to see if anything else edible was there. I sighed and decided that I would just have to settle on some fruit. I opened up the drawer at the base of the refrigerator to find a rotted apple and a half green lemon. Shrugging, I grabbed the lemon. At least it wouldn't give me food poisoning. What a horrible way to die.  
  
I kept the door open and grabbed a knife from one of the old wooden knife holders that sat on the countertop. In gripping it in my hand, I tried concentrating on cutting the lemon. How easily it slid beneath the peel... almost too easy. I wondered if it could slit through skin just as smoothly. And the yellowish liquid that squirted out of the lemon could so easily be crimson red...  
  
/Stop that!/ I told myself, and finished cutting it. I tossed the knife into the sink and ignored the loud clattering noise it made. I shivered, realizing that the fridge door was still wide opened, and shut it. Immediately, I almost wished that I could have its odd, pearly white glow to pierce the darkness of the room again.  
  
Instead, I made my way back to my room, nibbling on the lemon as I went. It was sour, and juicy, but for some reason it had very little taste. Eating something like that after milk at 1 am made stomach churn. It was agitated so much that I found myself in the bathroom, coughing it all up again. "Stupid lemon," I growled, the pungent sour taste of the fruit still on my tongue. I washed my mouth out repeatedly with some water, and then tried to use some mouthwash. My stomach now felt emptier than ever. Empty, yes. Empty like so many things.  
  
I walked back into his room and leaned on the window. It would be so easy to just push myself... what a nice night out. The moon cast a soft glow that lit up my entire sweet in a sort of blue haze. I stared up at the sky to where it sat, an outcast amongst all the pretty stars. I wanted to escape there one day. Lift my arms out and let everyone know that people could fly. People could escape. People could find a way out.  
  
I couldn't avoid it any longer. I didn't matter. I had to find a way out. I had to fly.  
  
I never asked for this.  
  
/We so rarely do./  
  
I reached under my bed to where a box sat. On the cover, in huge black block letters, were the words: 'Do NOT open!' I wanted to cry again, but no tears came. I was so empty, and so exhausted, that I couldn't cry any more. Slowly, I opened the top.  
  
Think about what you're about to do.  
  
/I know exactly what I'm about to do./  
  
I stared inside the box, to where the knife sat. It shone so brightly in the silvery moonlight that I almost didn't want to taint it with my blood.  
  
Some days I don't matter.  
  
/Some days I don't exist./  
  
I sighed and lifted the knife up. Escape? What a pitiful way to escape. But then, everything was pitiful about me. The way I looked; the way I acted. Earth could go on without me.  
  
And if Zim rules when I'm gone?  
  
/So what? Like I could ever stop him./  
  
I dropped the box on the floor and stood up, afraid. My hands shook as I slowly put the blade to my arm. I flinched, and realized I had forgotten to do something important.  
  
I have to let them know. So if there's a chance that someone out there gives a damn-  
  
/No one does./  
  
Then I'll let my family know that I was thinking of them.  
  
Quickly I dropped the blade onto my bed and turned to my computer. I hadn't gotten offline since Tuesday because I had found it a bother to keep getting on and off. It wasn't like anyone IMed me anyway.  
  
I was about to open a new, blank letter, when I realized that I had mail. It was almost 2:00 in the morning and I had mail? What kind of freak is up at 2:00 am in the morning to write a message?  
  
That's right. I'm that kind of freak.  
  
/Don't open it./  
  
It could've been spam, but I realized the subject line read 'For Dib'. Unless the spammers had suddenly become intelligent hackers and found out my name, I doubted it would be mail worth deleting. Timidly, I opened the e-mail. It was probably nothing. But I read it, nevertheless:  
  
  
  
Dib,  
  
/I wanted to be like you  
  
I wanted everything  
  
So I tried to be like you  
  
And I got swept away  
  
I didn't know that  
  
I was so cold  
  
And you needed someone  
  
To show you the way  
  
So I'm taking your hand  
  
And we'll figure out  
  
That when the tide comes  
  
Who'll take you away  
  
If you want to  
  
I can save you  
  
I can take you away from here  
  
So lonely inside  
  
So busy out there  
  
And all you wanted  
  
was somebody who cares  
  
Please can you tell me  
  
So I can finally see  
  
Where you go when you're gone/  
  
-Someone who cares.  
  
  
  
My breathing stopped.  
  
Who knew? Who could possibly have known? This had to be some kind of... joke. But jokes so rarely hit so close to home.  
  
I reread the letter, and studied the sender's name. It wasn't an address I recognized. It was so confusing. Who would waste their time to write such a message? Who would actually... care? And then a strange thing happened: I smiled.  
  
It was a good feeling. Because I was alive, and someone *cared*. I laughed, and tried not to think about how strange my voice sounded when it did so. It was a deep laugh, a hearty laugh. The kind that made you want to keep laughing.  
  
I glanced over at my bedside, where the knife still lay. It sat there, staring, and waiting to be used. The power it held was all gone, now. Now it lay on the bed- a dull figure, devoid of life or vivacity. /Not today, my friend/, I thought, and picked it up.  
  
I realized I was crying again, but that was to be expected. I could cry again, and that was all that mattered. Through my tears, and through my smiling, I leaned out the window and threw the knife into the bushes below me.  
  
Maybe I had misread the world. We walk around so often, and think that no one notices or cares that we exist. Maybe someone does. Maybe they just don't make it known.  
  
I half considered running into Gaz's room and telling her that I cared, but strictly decided against it. I wanted to live, now, and doing something like that would be equivalent to suicide.  
  
/So what happens now/? I thought. I turned back to the e-mail and hit the reply button, quickly typing in a /thank you/ to the sender. They had, after all, done more than they could possibly ever know.  
  
The letter was sent and I sat, waiting, hoping that whoever had sent the letter was still online. A minute later I felt the familiar voice, ringing out, 'You've Got Mail'. So quickly?  
  
I opened up my mailbox, as fast as I possibly could. I didn't know what I felt, then. I just hoped that whoever sent this e-mail would make themselves known. I wanted a friend. I wanted a friend /badly/.  
  
I read the sender of the e-mail. Instantly all my hopes had failed.  
  
The new letter was sent from the 'Mailer Daemon'. The subject line read: 'Returned Mail- User Unknown'.  
  
I sighed and stood up, walking slowly back toward my window. I gazed up at the moon that now looked quite welcomed among the stars. One star glittered more brightly than the others, and it was the closest star to the moon.  
  
So maybe I still had a friend. I just didn't know who that friend was. For now, after tonight's events, that was enough for me. There was someone out there who cared.  
  
"Whoever you are," I whispered, "Thank you."  
  
End.  
  
A/N: Not my best work. I'm sorry if this made you fall asleep, but I had a mad urge to post something, and the other thing I'm working on I can't post yet because my beta-reader hasn't gotten back to me (^.^ I'm j/k, Tif). But yeah.... this has got to be one of the worst things I've written. I'm posting it here only for constructive criticism so please: criticize! I'm leaving it up to you to assume who sent the letter... Being the writer, I already know who it is. But that's a secret that'll go with me to my grave. It'll be a purple grave. In a nice cemetery by San Francisco so that when the fog rolls in it'll look spooky (yes?). And you'll all come by and throw flowers on it or I'll haunt you in your sleep. Just so that you know: I like purple flowers. 


End file.
